2007+Literacy+Reflections

by Lisa Dobbs
 * Metaphor

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A shepherd… How does this relate to me? What are the characteristics that I need to demonstrate in order to perform the job well as a shepherd? As I self reflect upon my traits as a shepherd I realize that I am gentle, caring, dependable and determined. I have patience and tolerance. I understand the individual basic needs of the flock as they learn at their own unique pace. Fulfilling my role as their guide, I usher my student flock down paths of unknown. We travel, enduring the obstacles of “No Child Left Behind” and the balance of the accommodations directed by the individual education plans. . I feed and nurture each member of the herd with “the need to know” information to survive. To survive the wrath of the master, whether it is at the state, district or building level. One portion of grain does not fit all. Some bleat from hunger while others require only a few morsels to sustain them through their journey. Some have the appropriate amount of fleece but others have been sheared of their wool. Occasionally, I must firmly use my crook to redirect or reach into my skin pouch searching for tools of the trade to make the appropriate modifications. We celebrate as each group travels successfully to the next field indicating we are moving forward. Some look back reflecting on their gains and others are merely satisfied to be moving on, mirroring what others are doing—we refer to this as peer influence. Too many of the lambs have been injured and even slaughtered by the environmental conditions in which they came from. Some have been impaired – not knowing how to search for change. Most have managed. Managed but suppressed. When an especially productive greener pasture is found, I pause to allow the lambs to graze before they rest for the evening. I might pass the time by playing my pipe, creating the next interactive activity, or just wonder what are they thinking? Are they feeling safe from the violence of society? Do they feel that their community is secure? Will they get enough nourishment once I turn them over to the next shepherd? Did I provide all that I could? There are a few that I am extremely concerned about. Will the next shepherd recognize their needs and will the herd adapt to new surroundings? Some will need occasional prodding from my staff and others will merely be compliant because they were taught to be obedient and do as they are told. Of course there are a couple of defiant and curious ones that want to search their own adventure. They stray, frolicking for short time and I quickly pick them carrying them to the fold. The trail we travel is boring, and lacks visual images and because they want to demand the audience, they persist on the effort to create distractions. I am angry at the wolves and eagles that insist on attacking my sheep, making them feel inferior, as they are unable to defend themselves. The journey will begin again tomorrow allowing me to change the direction of travel or continue the path that appears appropriate for the purpose of their destination. I have completed this assignment with the confidence that I have done my best and nurtured another flock of developing lambs.

Metaphor by Alexa Harrelson

Are You a Shepherd or a Herdsman?

Shepherds are to sheep as herdsmen are to _. Well, you fill in the blank. There are herds of goats. There are herds of cattle and have you ever tried to herd cats?

Any day of a teacher can pertain to any one or all of these. I would like to think of myself as a shepherd leading the sheep to the well of knowledge. The slope would be gradual, the grass soft under my feet as we meander from subject to subject enjoying the breeze of satisfaction in learning all there is to know in each field as we travel. The clover of reading might be sweeter than thorny rose infested field of math. Of course, everyone creates their own reality in this game of life. We see what we want to see. I would lead them through the maze each day and they would come out triumphant lambs skipping along the path. If they ran across a problem, they would bleat noisily and I would carry them though the rough spots. The sheep know the shepherd’s voice and follow. If two shepherds get together and walk along a road, it is no problem. When they come to the intersection where they wish to separate the flocks, each shepherd goes his or her own way and the sheep split themselves up as they follow the correct leader.

Unfortunately, every class has a few goats. Goats do not follow. They have to be herded or driven from place to place. This job is much more difficult because they don’t always go easily. Goats are cantankerous critters who are often naughty. They rarely follow and often try to lead the teacher. If they don’t get their own way, they will butt you with their head, giving themselves a headache. Then they get angry at you as if it is your fault! Goats will eat anything and act like they understand. But tin cans do not digest well and knowledge is not useful if it does not digest. Forcing a goat does not do any good. They can be as stubborn as a mule and they bite. Why do you think herdsman and shepherds have crooks or staffs that they carry? It is not just for the wild animals. My students have many wild animals in their lives including hunger, divorce, live-in boyfriends, eviction notices, untreated illness, and illegal drugs, crack babies and children born addicted to engineered chemicals.

On particularly bad days, I feel as if I am herding cats. Have you ever tried to catch a wild kitten or even just corral them? They change direction faster than your eye can follow. All children have ADD on those days.

When I think of shepherds, I think of the ones that went to see Jesus when he was born. It is interesting that they were really the lowest people on the totem pole so to speak. They were often dirty and were always smelly. Have you ever smelled lanolin? It is the smell that sheep have. Often the shepherds would pick up the smallest lamb and wrap it around their shoulders. This way the herd could be moved a little faster without fear of leaving the smallest lamb behind. The lanolin doesn’t really come off of you. It’s like a smelly lotion that is rubbed into the skin. Some mothers still use it on babies because it has waterproof properties that are good for a baby’s behind. I imagine that shepherds had soft hands, but they were not welcome in upper society. These humble people were the ones that were personally invited to welcome the newborn king Jesus into the world. Irony?

It is interesting that sheep follow their shepherd’s voice. A shepherd leads his flock. If you are a goat herder, they drive their animals. That’s why scripture talks about dividing the sheep from the goats. A shepherd who has both will lead the sheep and the goats get carried along with the flow or they might have a dog to help keep them going. However goats and sheep are very different animals with very different traits. Sheep nibble the top of the grass while goats rip the grass out by its roots.

Sheep always look to me like they should be soft. They are not. It is not until the wool is carded or combed that it becomes soft. Nevertheless it is itchy so many people do not wear wool anymore. We have too many other products that are softer and now they use plastics to suck the moisture away from you even as you sweat. It’s amazing how technology can help us. However I am concerned that the engineered chemicals and the technology will make the sheep an endangered species.

Literate and Loving It! Mary Dohl July 16, 2007

The very basic level of being literate is having the ability to read and write. The definition is extended in the on-line dictionaries as someone who is well-informed and educated. How does one develop from the very basic to the refined literate being? I believe that it is a lifelong process.

I cannot recall having an “Ah ha!” moment when I discovered I was able to recognize how letters fit together to make words, but I am sure it was early in my first grade year at school. I started first grade as a five year old without the benefit of kindergarten or preschool, but I had learned most of my letters and numbers at home from my mom and my older brother and sister so I was not worried about starting school. When it came to decoding, phonics was a major part of the learning process in first grade. I remember how much I looked forward to going up to the front of the room to sit around the little red table during phonics lessons. When it was time to start reading, how special it felt to hold an actual reading book in my hands! I became acquainted with Dick and Jane and Penny from those stories as well as their pets, Tip and Mitten. The books in that series are the first books I read to myself.

I went to a Lutheran church school so Bible verse and hymn memorization was daily homework. It was not long after I caught on to the skills for reading that I was able to practice on my own to prepare for recitation during the morning religion class. In the upper grades, our daily after-lunch routine was reading from the Bible. Students would read verse by verse from a book in the King James version. The King James version is still my favorite for reading aloud. The writing just sounds richer to me.

Memories of practicing penmanship are more clear to me than memories of writing sentences or stories. I know we often wrote answers to the questions that followed the stories in our readers and social studies books when I was in the 4th- 8th grades. I am certain that my teachers had me write poems and stories, but the only story I can remember that I composed as a writing assignment is one I wrote in 7th grade after I had spent a weekend at the home of my best friend. We had gone horseback riding and my horse had jumped a ditch. I guess I was so surprised that I did not fall off that the experience and the writing I did about it were deeply imprinted in my memory.

I had plenty of practice at home in pre-reading and pre-writing skills before I started attending school. From the time we were tiny tots, my parents read to my siblings and me. Before we had the attention span or vocabulary to sit for very long listening, Mom or Dad pointed to pictures in books and named the objects. When we grew older, naptime after the noon meal was always story time. Mom would lie down with us and read to us from __The Child’s Garden of Verses__ or the __Mother Goose Storybook__. When she read poems to us, she often left off the end of the line to let us fill in the rhyming words. What I remember of my dad reading to us is mostly the comics. They were delivered by noon on Saturday. When Dad came in for dinner, he would first sit down and read the “funny papers” to us. That was always a special time.

Early writing experiences for me were coloring and scribbling with pencils. Part of my entertainment at church was drawing eyes in faces or tails on animals that my mom would sketch for me during the sermon. One type of writing for an audience that I did at home after I grew older was the writing of thank you notes. My parents insisted that my siblings and I write thank you notes for birthday and Christmas gifts. We also were in the 4-H club so from the age of eight years old on up we had to keep record books in which we reported on our projects. That was good practice in writing clearly and concisely.

As we developed our own reading skills, we made frequent trips to the city library. Mrs. Hinkson, the librarian, was very helpful when it came to finding interesting books. After we would get home, I would read my books and then trade with my sister and read hers. We belonged to a book club too for a couple of years. Some of my favorite books from the club were __Follow My Leader__ and __Champion Dog, Prince Tom__. We also received the child’s magazine, “Jack and Jill.” It always arrived around the same time each month so we would often race to the mailbox to see if it had been delivered. The first one to get her or his hands on it generally got to work the puzzles and read whatever looked interesting.

My parents modeled reading too. Dad would be reading a newspaper, a magazine, or a book almost as soon as he reached his favorite chair. Mom was often busy with housework or helping us with homework until well after supper time so I don’t remember her reading novels as she does now for her own pleasure, but I do remember she and Dad trading parts of the newspaper and her calling his attention to items in the newspaper or articles in a magazine that she thought he would be sure to want to read.

The examples above illustrate how an interest in reading and writing was encouraged by my parents from early on. However, part of becoming literate is also appreciating many different forms of literature-also drama. Our family did not have a television until I was in my teens. Instead, we frequented the theaters in our area. We usually went to the movies a couple of times a month. Just a few of the titles of memorable pictures I saw on the silver screen as a child include __Ben Hur__, __Gone with the Wind__, __To Kill a Mockingbird__, __Whatever Happened to Baby Jane__, and __South__ __Pacific__. The often intricate stories helped me understand how characters are developed, how a plot line builds to create tension and sustain interest, and how issues can be resolved in many different ways.

I also experienced tales of adventure during the Sunday radio programs I listened to as a child. My older brother and sister and I would watch the clock closely as we waited for the start of “The Shadow”, “Have Gun Will Travel”, and “Gunsmoke.” I think that hearing the dialogue with only the characters’ voices and some sound effects in the background helped me create visual images. The ability to "see" the characters in one's own imagination is also part of becoming literate.

Another way that my development as a literate person was advanced was through table talk. When I was growing up, breakfast, dinner, and supper (as we called our meals) were all to be eaten as a family at the table. There was a great deal of talk on many and varied topics around the table. My dad was a great story-teller. He enjoyed relating tales, especially the endings of humorous ones, the endings of which he'd often repeat two or three times. I think I also learned most of my correct grammar and usage at the table during meals. Dad had an ear for a misused word, tense, or pronoun and would quickly set us straight if we spoke incorrectly.

The influences that have shaped me as a literate being were many and varied. They began long before I could walk or talk and continue even now. My ability to read, comprehend, and make connections to the text has long been a source of enjoyment to me. It has also become my livelihood. I strive to pass on my love of literature and the wonder of words to my students. I tell them that it is the vehicle that will help them reach their dreams-and that it makes the ride along the way so much more entertaining!.

by Wendy Graber**
 * On Being Literate

What is a literate person? What characteristics does a literate person possess? Am I a literate person? If so, when did I become literate? These are the questions I would like to explore in this essay. Society defines “literate” in a variety of ways, depending on who is doing the defining and in what context the literate, or non-literate, person exists. General consensus is that a literate person is one with the knowledge and basic skills that allow him or her to speak, read, //and// write. To some people, this can be as simple as being able to read traffic signs and names of products at the grocery store. Others may feel that a person must be college educated in order to be literate. Even Webster can’t agree on a definition of “literate”. One version defines the term as 1) able to read and write, 2) skillful in the use of words, and 3) knowledgeable; well read. Another version defines it as one who is “well educated; having or showing extensive knowledge, learning, or culture and [now rare] versed in literature.” And still another edition of the Webster has definitions on both ends of the time continuum, it seems. The first definition states that “literate” means //technically proficient//, and the second says “literate” is //one admitted to holy orders in the Church of England without having a university degree.// Whichever definition you choose to select as the proper way to define literate, they all have one thing in common… each definition is based on one’s ability to communicate in writing and with the spoken word. To me, a literate person is someone who can not simply read a text or speak words or write a sentence, but one who can make some sort of sense of it all. There is a level of understanding and, yes, knowledge that I believe must be present for a person to be considered a truly literate being. There must be some level of language comprehension to make the words that are written, spoken, and read make sense. I do not feel a person must necessarily possess //extensive// knowledge on any given subject as one version of Webster suggests, but I do think there must be an understanding of the language in order for one to make enough sense out of a topic to make it meaningful. //THEN// being able to transfer that knowledge into a written or spoken form and then read it back molds itself into a “literate” being. My first memory of reading was Nancy Drew. My aunt, who is very smart, speaks five languages fluently, has written and published books on the “art” of communication, began sending me novels from the Nancy Drew series when I could first begin to read chapter books. My mother thought they were ridiculously too difficult for me… I had just barely left picture books, for crying out loud! But without fail, Aunt Linda sent me a new Nancy Drew every few months. I was an only child then, and with not very many kids in the neighborhood, it didn’t take me long to get the hang of reading the almost pictureless chapters. One by one, I devoured every mystery and mishap sent my way in the form of Nancy Drew. Being able to read them, though, did not make me a literate being. It was that I was able to read the text and understand the words in a meaningful manner. I built my vocabulary and learned a lot about deductive reasoning through those books. But again, //reading// did not make me literate… I don’t think you can pinpoint a single defining moment of literacy. It is something that blooms and blossoms over time. Being literate is a process a lot like the metamorphosis of a butterfly. It starts small, but by building on itself a cocoon, it is able to grow and grow and grow in to something magnificent.

Terri Rose
 * A Literate Human Being**


 * “Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.”**
 * - Oliver Wendell Holmes**

Speaking, reading and writing are communication skills. A coherent knowledge of the code is required for human beings to communicate. Communication has many degrees of difficulty which can affect the quality or effectiveness of a participant’s endeavors. The ability to communicate begins in infancy and continues to develop throughout one’s life. While physical and verbal communication are early childhood skills that impact social interaction it is the aptitude for reading and writing during the primary years that determine how sophisticated one’s communication skills progress. To be a literate human being one must acquire the ability to decode and comprehend words as well as inscribe words to communicate. As a child my communication skills were underdeveloped and my struggles turned into frustration which fostered excessive physical outbursts. The frustration increased once I began school. My introduction to the academic world began with visiting the schools of my older brother. School looked fun! I was sure things would be easier when I became a student. How was I to know I would become a prisoner of a secret code that no one could explain to me? //“What kind of game is this? I don’t understand. How do they get the word **dog** from this **pab**? I can’t do this! I must be stupid!”// Kindergarten was painful. There were many unsuccessful attempts to recognize the secret code. However, I thrived in athletics, art and music so as my self esteem plummeted, my stubbornness kicked in to high gear. //“Why can’t I understand those drawings? I am not going to let those scribbles they call letters get the best of me. I am not giving up. If I keep trying I can understand this game. I wonder why Teacher doesn’t use more nursery rhymes. **Those** words are easy.”// Eventually, first, second, and third grade yielded some progress (thank you, Dr. Seuss), but I was still struggling while it appeared my classmates did not. The night before I entered fourth grade I wished upon a star that my summer practice efforts would pay off. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped and so I continued struggling to comprehend those blasted textbooks. Then, one September evening, as my family watched a //__Sherlock Holmes__// movie, my brother, who was in college studying to be a teacher, explained, //“You are a detective trying to crack a code so you can read the message sent by a mysterious person. You will write a message back to this person using the same code.”// That intriguing scenario changed my perspective. The next day I discovered a book in our school library. //__The Phantom Tollbooth__// was fascinating! I read that book so many times that our librarian suggested I buy my own copy. That same year I began writing poetry that rhymed. Singing and playing with the words to communicate my ideas was exhilarating! I ventured out into the world of storytelling by writing stories about animals that didn’t fit in with the crowd. I identified with Rudolph the Reindeer but my stories didn’t have others accepting the main character. In my stories the main character always developed a sense of peace as they learned to accept their uniqueness. I then discovered the poetry of E. E. Cummings and Langston Hughes. Their words were spine-tingling! Ahhhhhhhhh, sweet language, to say what I felt without getting the adults bent out of shape! OOOOh, what delight! I enjoyed the privacy of writing my thoughts. Until I discovered my little sister reading from my sketch book! I quickly developed an enigmatic way of writing my thoughts so when she tried to sneak-a-peek she wouldn’t know my exact thoughts without the words. I cherished it! Creative writing seemed as natural as breathing. By the end of fourth grade I had filled ten sketch books with songs, poems, and stories. School was still exasperating but I had an artistic outlet for my frustration. I cultivated an interest in the writings of Edgar Allan Poe, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Edna St. Vincent Millay, William Blake, Emily Dickinson and many others. Fourth grade was a pivotal year for my psyche. I endured the traumatic academic experiences year after year knowing that I had a safe place to go when the rest of the world told me I wasn’t good enough. I continued to pursue my quest for a sense of peace as I learned to accept my uniqueness. Becoming a literate human being saved my life.

Linda Jackson SCKWP Summer 2007 Writing is a gateway. I know that I want that gate to swing open and my students to be standing on that gate swinging back and forth enjoying the creative process, laughing, shouting, screaming to be heard with their words. The human condition is that we still learn by doing and working through a process to learn. This messy and meaningful process is what I do and teach. As each student swings their gate open, I get to see amazing feats of courage, deep and abiding love, forgiveness, loyalty, and a passionate awareness of life. What a privilege!
 * Teaching Metaphor**

Arriving at the Gate Did I set out to be a teacher? Did I envision teaching as a child? Set up my little school room and teach my dolls? NO. NO. NO. Teaching became my choice when my mother came into my room one evening, sat on my bed and told me that I was going to be a teacher since I needed to have something to do in my life that I could do anywhere, any time, no matter what! If I wanted my parents further support in college, I was going to be enrolled in the college of education and become a teacher. I don’t remember being upset or angry, just sort of well, okay, I can do that. Who knows what kind of an archeologist I would have become! But I do know that I love teaching! She was correct, I have been able to teach anywhere, any time. I have been able to support my family in times of financial struggle. And I found a passion!

Swinging on the Gate Over the years I have taught many levels of elementary school and middle school, my longest being a gifted facilitator. What I learned teaching high level students was that passionate interest equals application and the drive to work. The feeling of accomplishment and success is what I call a ‘gifted feeling’. If that wonderful feeling of ‘giftedness’ can be captured in one place it usually can be captured again. I learned to be a facilitator: a teacher who allows learning to happen. Of course, there is a process, a framework, a way through, but if we are really truthful, the student must do the learning work by themselves. They must have a place to practice, to make mistakes, to gain confidence and see a hard won product. The light in those eyes when they see their product displayed and appreciated makes all the work worthwhile.

In the small rural town where I live and teach there are four schools: two elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school. My job as gifted facilitator allowed me to work at both elementary buildings and the middle school. Four years ago our district decided to change the way we taught reading, since our scores had been dropping over the years. I got the chance to be part of a team, developing a reading program and a stand alone writing program, giving students a chance to achieve in school no matter what their circumstances may be. All the hard team work has paid off with the students continuing to make achievement gains. What an exciting trip these last four years have been! Every year the students have gained writing skills and the regular classroom teachers are amazed that a writing assignment is not met with resistance anymore. The students view writing as a normal behavior to express their knowledge and creativity. Consistency and continuity in holding students to a high standard are beginning to make a mark on the school culture.

Holding Open the Gate I am passionate about learning, thinking and creating. All these things happen when one is writing. Writing is one of the most important technological advances that man has ever made. It comes in different forms, different historical times, different cultures and yet in the act of recording, human beings represent themselves for all to see. In today’s world of mass communication, video, e-mail, i-phones, creating and communicating are more important than ever. It is of utmost importance that students learn to tell their story, use their voice and give meaning to their time by writing.

Through out history, writing and communication have been very powerful tools. Ideas into words into print have changed the course of human events. It is a powerful force today and one that will give our students a choice and voice in their future. The ability to write and communicate ideas is one of the keys to change. Change is always there. We do not know what jobs will take up the future, but we know that writing and the ability to communicate will be a big part of it. It is no longer just about our area, state or country. It is about the world. My job is to give students as many choices as possible for their future. Writing can help hold the gate to the future wide open.

Since writing is a metacognitive process from a person’s collective experiences, it gives the teacher a view into the mind of a student. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then writing is the gateway to the mind. As the mind’s gate opens, we can see the immense breadth of experience in the human intellect and the teacher becomes a learner, a mentor and a supporter of that effort. Each time a student makes a break through in writing their story, I feel a sense of pure joy.

Never Closing Gate I’ll hold the gate for all who come. Enter and set down your shining words. Let them spill shimmering along, Shouting to all who read them I Was Here!

The gate will never close if you but come and enter.

What does it mean to be Literate? Renee Kohlhagen July 15, 2007

Traditional definitions of literacy include the ability to read, write, spell, listen and speak. Allowing such a simple definition to define what it means to be literate is irresponsible. As this definition defines literacy it has forgotten the element of comprehension. What does it matter if you can read the words on the page if you don’t understand the meaning of what is being said? A more realistic definition of literacy was proposed by the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization, they defined literacy as, “the ability to identify, understand, interpret, create, communicate and compute, using printed and written materials associated with varying context.

Intelligence is a measure of your capacity to learn, which is different than literacy, which measures the level of experience and skill you have at comprehending and expressing various forms of written language. You can go to another society and have all the intelligence in the world but you might not be able to utilize the printed information necessary for decisions regarding travel, laws, performing a job, or gathering news and information, thereby rendering you illiterate for the time being. Until you could adapt to their language, both written and verbal, and in some cases culturally, you would be lost.

The lowest level of literacy is functionally literate. This is functional within the confines of the environment. For example, an 8th grader with the same comprehension level can function in an 8th grade equivalent world. Once someone can read, decode words and understand, they have reached a certain level of literacy. They would be considered functionally literate at levels established by the standards that are determined by the educational structure of that society. This includes most elementary students, including those who are functioning at a lower level. For example, the 5th grader who can decode and pronounce his 5th grade text books but has a comprehension level of a 2nd grader is functionally literate at a 2nd grade level.

Once a student acquires a job, or has attended college and receives specific technical training, they have become technically literate. Now you are functioning at a different level. Educational and workplace experience is often job specific, so an otherwise intelligent and literate individual, in greater society, would be ill-prepared and incapable of performing at an adequate level within this micro-culture, and as a result, they would not be able to understand and communicate with others at the required competency. This means that an engineer in the aerospace industry despite their education and experience could not walk into the operating room after reading the medical charts and records on a patient and comprehend what a person with years of experience and training in the field would know. The language, both in content and terminology, would be quite unfamiliar, and for at least some length of time, in the medical field, they would be illiterate on most likely all but the most basic levels.

It would also seem important to note that a person operating within the realm of what is familiar and common to them would suddenly be rendered illiterate when moved outside of those familiar confines. An individual who relocates to a place where they cannot read or speak the language in use would, of course, be considered illiterate by those around them who already did. This tends to make literacy a subjective term defined such much by the parameters in which it is considered. There are those who are technically literate in many modes. These people are defined as transliterate since they have a strong command of the language or languages, vast diverse knowledge, and are technically fluent in many micro-cultures. These individuals can adapt and function in almost any situation.

After considering all the implications of the term literate, I ask, Am I literate? Unfortunately, I am not transliterate although it would be great if I could proudly boast such a claim. Indeed, virtually all people could be said to be illiterate on some level through this bit of cross-cultural analysis. I am functionally literate in society and technically literate in the world of elementary education. Although without continual workplace experience and continual education programs I would be rendered illiterate in the technical world of elementary education. Literacy is a living concept that changes both with the size of the environment in which it is to be considered, and within the scope of time as societal expectations and requirements evolve.

Teacher Metaphor || By Becky Frisbie
 * || The Gardener

The mind is a good place to start, planting in fertile soil. Growing a good garden takes a lot of work and toil.

A first step to take, getting the right seeds to plant. Most would agree, it’s one that’s very significant.

Adding to the landscape, let’s start with the flowers; Which can be enjoyed for many, many hours.

What sounds like the ticket? Journaling and creative writing. This type of gardening can be so inviting.

From bugs to roses, you could write about almost anything. Advice, mistakes, controversy, vacationing.

How about qualities that make a good friend? Or adventures on Mars? You could write about your favorite movie stars.

Seeds of hope and seeds of despair, the possibilities are limitless; Remember first loves or not doing well on a test?

I love stories about Grandma’s house, the smell of cookies baking. Reading many wonderful books and the art of storytelling.

Love is always a good topic. It brings out many emotions; And can lead you to forgotten Godly devotions.

My last summer vacation could be rather boring. It might bring about a chorus of snoring.

Much better topics would be the lessons of love and forgiveness, Or passions of the heart and fulfillment.

Reading books is always motivating or a trip to a local attraction, Maybe some unforgettable moment or a comical action.

Should I squash a talking ant, or let a pigeon drink pop? Or why other fire hydrants are red and I’m not?

Maybe it’s time to plant seeds of production, food for the intellect, soul, and mind Essays and short story starters, trying to select one you like, are sometimes hard to find.

Some like the narrative, length is always an issue. With many you might be in need of a tissue.

Essays about perseverance, attitude and caring, Can bring out many minutes of sharing.

It could even cause a person to drawl in the Arkansas way. With this there are many humorous things to say.

Lessons of life and love, everyone has something that strikes a chord. Like pink sweaters, and a knight on a white stallion with a gleaming sword.

One could write about aliens, about cowboys or mountains. How about the park and the beautiful fountains?

The possibilities are limitless when writing from experience or the heart. It doesn’t take much prompting to get a good start.

Do you like to be convincing? Then maybe the persuasive essay is for you. Should the teacher give homework for the student to do?

Convincing gardeners need to be organized. Using 8 steps in planning is considered to be wise.

Start with the Exordium and next is the Propositio Then the Partitio and the 4th step, Narratio.

Now that the introductions are out of the way, The body is next to give you more details to say.

This is called the Confirmatio, where you can illustrate and explain. Next is the Reprehensio, the opposing view to make plain.

The last two steps are the Digressio and Peroratio to make an emotional connection. You can summarize main points with enthusiasm and passion.

It’s time to plant seeds of knowledge. Critical thinking might be the route to take. How much sense of this world can I make?

Evaluate the role of intuition or how to justify moral decisions. Determine what follows or breaks accepted conventions.

Can we know something with complete certainty, establish truths with context or content; Or dissect the problems with our government?

There are many avenues a gardener can take. Plant many seeds But make sure to take control of the weeds.

The I can’ts the we have too’s May need a lot of clues.

Meetings, state assessments, and time limits. We create as much writing as the system permits.

Every garden needs rain and hopefully the sun comes out. Seeds will not grow without these, it’s no doubt.

The gardener can sprinkle words to inspire the seedlings to sprout; To reach their potential or to take an alternative route.

Words of encouragement can provide energy to continue the process A little nudge in the right direction can create the right focus.

Some seedlings take more coaxing to come to the surface and peak. But all can be reached and are allowed to speak.

Good gardening takes planning, without this I am sure there would be no direction For the seedlings to grow up toward perfection.

Webs are meant for more than spiders. They can be used for ideas as organizers.

Growing tree diagrams is an option too, To help the saplings know what to do.

Outline the main ideas and details in the plot. The seedlings will grow in straight rows and will produce a lot.

Advice from other gardeners is often the answer To produce plants of high quality of this I am sure.

Don’t get stuck in a rut of planting the same seeds every year. Try something new once in a while, you might hold it quite dear. ||

The Love of Reading Christine Davis-Lykins

Judy Blume, no cable, no video games and no siblings are just a few of the reasons why I love to read. My parents modeled reading to me. We always had books around the house that were there to read just for fun. There was pride in reading. A time when we could just be together, where nothing had to be said. Reading was something to be enjoyed. My parents ordered picture books for me. They came from Parents Magazine and once a month I got a brand new book in the mail. I remember checking the mail, anxiously waiting to see that thin cardboard package. There were stories about how mad someone was, about a girl whose mom had to go to work, about a dog that put himself in an egg and a story about eating green eggs and ham. I believe this is where the road to my love of reading began. To feel excitement about a book and then not being able to wait until you can read it. Feeling the hardback cover in your hands, skimming those pages you knew you were the first person to see. You could write your name on the first page and it would then forever be yours. I remember the first chapter book that I read by myself. It was about the Salem witch trails and I devoured each page. I was proud of myself when I finished it and realized that not only did I read a “big” book all by myself but that enjoyed it. After that, I couldn’t get enough books. I would read under the covers at night, in the car and during instruction time in class. Finding an author who touches your heart and soul can excel the love of reading. I tell my kids that they need to sample books until they find an author that writes books that they can really get into. Then they can make a list of that author’s books and start reading until there are no more left. Judy Blume was my author…she had me from //Dear God, It’s Me Margaret//. She wrote about girls that did not fit in, the way I felt about school at the time. //Flubber, Iggie’s House, Tales of the// //Fourth Grade Nothing//, I begged my mom to buy each book as I finished the last. I would reread previously read books if there was not a new novel to be had. //Forever// was passed around as we all were hitting adolescence. The story about a girl’s first sexual experience with a boy she thought she truly loved had us all believing there was a guy out there for us just like hers. This author was in sync with our lives; this book came to our attention as we were all dying over that first cute boy that looked our way as we walked down the hall. Judy Blume had proven to me that although my mother did not understand me, Judy did. Being an only child meant a lot of time alone. My parents not only worked but went to Wichita State University at night. There were no video games to pass the time. My neighborhood was filled with older boys who would let me tag along only for so long and then tell me to go home. Cable television was something that other families were just starting to get so it might as well have been a million dollars, something we would not have. The characters in books became my friends. In junior high I began to read the //Flowers in the Attic// series. I would sit for hours on end empathizing with the girl who inappropriately loved her brother. As I read I would rationalize her actions and think what a good friend she would be, if she were here. I read //Teen Beat// and tore the pictures out of Steve Perry (lead singer of Journey) and other various “hot” guys. I pasted them on my walls. Reading helped me not feel so alone, it filled my time and gave me friends, even if they were only on paper. I want to pass this love of reading on to my own daughters. There is no peace in the world like truly getting into a book. To sit back and become so engaged in the pages that time stands still. To wait in line for that next Harry Potter book and then forget to eat because you **//have//** to know what happens next. The love of reading, I believe, transfers to the love of learning. The more you read, the more you become interested in the other people that you share this planet with. How can you not? They are just a good book in the making.

Shirleen Augustine Literacy Paper SCKWP 6-29-07

Farms Grow More Than Crops

Growing up a “farm kid” in the summer gave me a very different perspective on life in comparison to my classmates who grew up as “city kids.”

My days began at sunup and ended at sundown. While my classmates were working on their swimming pool tans, I was perfecting my farmer’s tan. Their days were filled with play dates, shopping, TV, swimming, and sports. My days were filled with chores, baling alfalfa, milking cows, canning vegetables, butchering chickens, and helping with harvest. It was quite the treat to leave the farm and head to town with Mom when she had an errand. Perhaps it was for groceries at the IGA, where we ran barefoot on the ice-cold floors. Perhaps our destination was the CO-OP to get supplies. On these trips there seemed to always be a few minutes to venture into the library and select a few books, or in my case, a huge bag of books. Each summer I worked hard to get stamps and stickers on my chart for the summer reading program. My reading grew by leaps and bounds over those summers. For those moments when I had down time, reading was the perfect solution.. Reading a book was much better than staring at the one TV channel we received that was always wavy in the summer heat. A book became part of the equipment that was packed as I went about my farm duties. I read while I waited for the next group of milking cows that needed grain. I read, sitting against a fence post, while I kept a watchful eye on the cattle herd as it grazed in an open field. I read in the truck as I waited for my dad to make another round on the tractor. My tastes in reading also grew in leaps and bounds over those summers. I graduated from children’s books, through the entire series of Nancy Drew mysteries, and on to the more serious science fiction books. My writing also benefited from those summers. My mom subscribed to a magazine titled “Pack-O-Fun.” It arrived monthly, “packed” with stories, games, and patterns for crafts. Included in each issue was a section called People to People. This section was a list of kids, from every corner of the country, who wanted to be a pen pal. Even though my family never took a vacation, I traveled from state to state each summer for the price of a five-cent stamp. I wrote and received letters almost daily. Through their tales of adventures and pictures they sent I learned about places across the country as far away as Pennsylvania. As we grew older we shared our triumphs and our heartaches. My pack of stationary, bought at the dime store and illustrated with all kinds of cute baby animals, would accompany a library book and me to all those places where I had to sit and wait. Some might say that wheat was the crop on our farm. According to my memory, we also harvested a reader and a writer.

More Than Just A Hike By Dan Whisler

A hike to the top of one of Colorado’s "fourteeners" (peaks above 14,000 feet elevation) is far more than just a walk through the forest. Just as teaching is more than helping kids learn to read and write, these high-altitude journeys are more than a casual stroll, involving and heightening a variety of emotions as the altitude increases.

Like the first day of school, leaving base camp or the trailhead, usually early on a summer morning, most hikers are excited and anxious to hit the trail, delighted to be in God’s great outdoors. The first hour is often filled with banter and laughter in the air as the group greets the sunrise above the valley floor. As the journey continues, however, the exuberance of the early morning is often tempered by the realization of all the work that must to be done to reach the lofty summit looming high overhead. Apprehension sets in. Comments like, “Why are we doing this?”, “I don't know if I can make it that far.”, and “How much longer ‘til we stop for lunch?” are common at this point. And similar to teaching and assessments, sometimes the summit is obscured by clouds, so you don’t even know what the goal really even looks like as you journey upwards. Yet a feeling of success and encouragement is gained by looking back down the mountain and realizing the miles of meandering trails that have already been traversed. Remember, not everyone starts their journey at the same point, and what may have been an easy start for you may mean others have traveled many miles to reach the same place.

Determination. From here on that’s what it will take. Anyone that tells you it is easy is either: A) younger than you; B) hasn’t climbed a fourteener before; or C) they have a short memory. Climbing a fourteener is seldom easy, but it is always worth every bit of energy you pour into each step along the way. You can do it…..keep going!

As you venture further up the mountain the “scenic breaks” and “photographic moments” are encountered much more frequently. Don’t call them “rest breaks” or the others in your group will simply think you are out of shape. Seriously, the views from high above timberline are often spectacular and every step of the journey should be savored, even the difficult ones. Challenges are what make the journey memorable. Like wise mountain guides enjoying the scenery, good teachers are willing to set aside the constant energy-draining demands of curriculum and assessments as they enjoy the “teachable moments” in the classroom, too. Those truly are the lessons best learned.

Higher and higher you climb, lungs burning with each new ridge reached. Gasping for air, you recharge your energy levels with a little food at every break. Frustrations are often encountered, though, as what you thought was the last push to the top turns out to be a false summit, the mountain standing still higher behind it. Are there any false summits in education? Of course! It’s the weekend at the end of spring break when you realize there is still more work to be done before the school year is over! Or how about AYP? Remember….the mountain you have to climb next year will be bigger!

Keep going! Grab someone’s hand, if needed, or reach yours out to someone else. Together. That’s the best way to reach the summit! It is also the best way to reach a successful conclusion to another school year.

And so it is with life. Set little goals, focus on each step, savor the moment, and enjoy the journey…..together. I’ll see you at the top!